


Assassin's Creed oneshots

by ItsFinnley666 (RavenDeliahJones)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-11-18 10:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenDeliahJones/pseuds/ItsFinnley666
Summary: Too much trash. Why am I like this?





	1. Lemon and Gin

Your fingers play gently with the straw, twirling it in the empty glass as you sigh. Any noise seems to be swallowed up by the pounding rhythm of the music pulsating through the air around you. Bodies jerked and grinded in sync behind you, but you couldn't care less. The music was giving you a headache, and the atmosphere was toxic. The room smelled like cheap perfume and sweat, and frankly, it was disgusting. You scowled and rubbed your temples, shaking your head to try and clear your mind. What a place to meet. Why not a coffee shop or something? Why a nightclub? The faint sound of a glass sliding across the countertop pulls you from your thoughts, and a glass comes to rest at your hand. You stare at it, transfixed for a moment, and confusion washes over you, until you see the hand from which it came from. You follow up the arm, the nice dress shirt and see him, a bartender, of course. He was smiling at you, warm eyes creased at the sides with the grin, and you feel warm under his gaze. 

"I, uh, didn't ask for another drink."You say shyly, and he just shrugs. You're surprised he could hear you over the noise, but then he talks back, clear as day.

"You look like you need it. You look pretty down, what's up?" He busies himself cleaning a glass with the rag thrown over his shoulder, and you can feel your body tense up on the uncomfortable bar stool. 

"None of your business." You say, a little more hostile than you meant, and he holds his hands up, smiling wordlessly. At this, you soften, "Uh, sorry. I'm a little pissed off, I was supposed to be meeting this guy..." Your words dry in your mouth, and you take a sip of the drink, anxiously. 

"I'm sure he's just late." The bartender replies, sympathetically. You just nod in reply, and he goes about his job at the other end of the bar. You check your phone, no texts, no missed calls. Damn. It was only 10:25, maybe he'd gotten stuck in traffic? You bite your lip, taking another sip of your drink, and damn was it good. You raise your brows, the flavours mixing on your tongue like a dance, fruit and just the right amount of alcohol to make it effective, but not overpowering. This was different to the simple Lemon and Gin you had ordered when you first arrived, but it was a welcome change. Minutes pass as you are once again lost in your thoughts, and before you know it, your glass is once again empty. You snap out of it when you see those hands cleaning at your glass, and he chuckles at you. "Hey, want another one?"He asks, and you nod enthusiastically. 

"They're amazing." You reply, smiling into the conversation, and at your comment, he grins. 

"Why thank you, five years in this place does that to you." You find yourself laughing with him, and he continues, "It's surprisingly good money, put me through college. What about yourself?" You tell him about your job, and he nods along, still sporting that playful smirk that makes you unable to meet his eyes entirely. He finally sets down a new drink, and you thank him. 

"What's in this? Seriously, it's incredible!" You exclaim, and he does a small, mock bow in your direction. 

"Thank you, I'm here all night! Well, until eleven anyways." He chuckles, "But seriously, there's mostly lemonade, pineapple juice, vodka, and a few other choice things. Can't be giving away all my secrets." He winks, and you find your face heating up. You stare down at the bar, but notice the tattoo curled around his forearm, and your face is heated. "Any news from your guy?" You stop, shooting him a partially confused look until you remember. Damn, you'd completely forgotten. You fumble about in your purse for your phone, and check the notifications. Still nothing, and it was 10:40. You sigh, frustration laced in your breath, and the man in front of you just shoots you a sympathetic look, walking back to a couple who called for more drinks. You stand, and feel it go to your head. What was there to expect when you hadn't been out drinking in months? You rarely went out anymore, what with work and all. That's where your friends came in, setting you up with a guy you barely knew. He seemed nice enough, well that was before he decided to ditch you with no notice. 

Cautiously, you weaved your way in and out of crowds, avoiding those who looked at you for too long, and pushed open the door to the bathroom. 

 

"Damn." You cursed to yourself, looking at your reflection in the mirror. You shook your head, and all of a sudden it washed over you. Were you really that undesirable? Tears begin to prickle at your eyes, and your bottom lip trembles. You were sat there like an idiot, a complete fool, what if it was all some lousy joke? Did your friends know? Maybe they were laughing too, like that guy? Your makeup was beginning to stream down your cheeks, and your hand shake, a finger hovering over the call button on your phone. 

'Fuck them.' You think, bitterly. You run your hand under the water and remove the traces of ruined makeup from your face, huffing. You throw your phone back into your bag and strut out of the washroom, back to your seat at the bar, and downed your drink. The guy from earlier, blinks at you, and you order another, something stronger. You didn't specify, but he delivered, and damn, maybe you should've kept drinking the fruity stuff because this was burning the back of your throat, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind because right now you needed to be drunk. You'd figure it out tomorrow. The bartender shoots you a concerned look, and makes his way over to you. 

"Are you okay?" You didn't answer, but didn't look at him either. He sets a hand on your wrist, and you jump. "Look, my shift's ending, and I thought, maybe since you got all dressed up tonight you wouldn't want to waste it? I could, uh, help you improvise if you want?" Your brain can't entirely process his words, but you know what his tone of voice is implying and fuck, why not? He seems nice enough. You nod, and he smiles. "I'll get my bag." 

He goes into the back room, but returns promptly, this time of your side of the bar, and holds out his hand for you to take. You stand with his help, and sway slightly, the drinks going to your head. He leads you outside, and you feel the fresh air hit you hard. It's sobering, though. You sit at a bench on the outside, and he smiles at you. He just can't seem to stop smiling, can he? It's infectious. Not one of you's had said a word, and you were both smiling. "Well, I suppose we should start simple, I'm Desmond, you?" 

You give him your name and he tests it out on his tongue, smirks, tells you it suits you, and then you're shivering, but not entirely from the cold. He shoots you a look of concern, probably not for the first time tonight, and reaches for his bag. He pulls out a simple white hoodie, red trim, and settles it around your shoulders.

"Thank you." You say, voice cracking under your emotions, and he just nods, as if it's nothing. You smell the scent of alcohol and musk that sticks to the hoodie, and it rubs off on you. A reminder that this wasn't all for nothing. Desmond strikes up conversation, and you're pleased to know he's just as witty as you are. You two are laughing and joking about, when one of his colleagues comes out, smiling from ear to ear. 

"Here you go, yous' two" She jokes, and Desmond quips back. "Don't get too drunk, Des, you're expected in tomorrow." You find yourself laughing along, and he grins setting a hand on your knee,

"Of course, Lucy, this one's doing most of the drinking for me anyways." He chuckles, and your face is red with heat. Lucy winks at you, then disappears back indoors. Desmond turns to you as if nothing had happened, and his smile fades slightly. "Are you okay?" You raise a brow, until you notice he's close enough to see the red tinge in your eyes, and you bite your lip - from the proximity, and of course, the nervousness coursing through you. You're not sure how to answer, so you sigh.

"I just... I'm a little beat down." You admit, eventually, and he doesn't rush you. "Tonight really fucked me up... Not you of course! Just..." You trail off, unsure. He just waits, ever patient. "I don't know, it's silly. I just felt so-" You gesticulated for a second, "Worthless." Your voice is breaking again and he quickly comes to your aid. 

"Hey, no. It's okay." He cups your face, looking into your eyes, and at this moment you feel so vulnerable, letting a stranger read into you like this, but somehow it felt right. "You're not being silly, I promise. You're okay, really quite incredible, actually." He smiles, and you notice a small scar, lining the left side of his lips, and you're staring. When you snap out of it, he's smirking in his eyes, and your stomach flips. His thumb slides over your lips, rubbing them gently, and he leans in. You kiss back, feeling your heart flutter at the touch, and the hand on your knee begins to rub circles. The kiss is short, but passionate, and you feel yourself heating under his hands. He pulls away, a coldness fills you, despite his clothing enclosing you. "I'll call you a cab." You nod, sadly, averting your eyes to the ground. 

When the car arrives, you stand shakily, and go to remove the hoodie, but he just shakes his head. He hugs you, wrapping his arms around your waist, yours around his neck, and he smiles into your forehead. "Go home and get a glass of water, some painkillers. You're gonna need them, trust me." He chuckles, and you laugh, too. It's reassuring. You part, and smile back at him, simply taking him in for a few moments before turning, and getting into the taxi. You give the driver your address and the last thing you see before he leaves, is Desmond walking back the way you came. You smile, sighing to yourself. When you arrive, you pay the driver, and shove your hands into the hoodie's pockets. Your left hand encloses around something, and you pull it out to reveal a business card for the bar, a number hastily scribbled over the information. 

Call me? ;)

You grin, sitting down on your bed. You add his number to you phone, and lay back on your pillow. You had to give back his hoodie didn't you?


	2. "I'm telling you.  I'm haunted."

(Guastafeste - killjoy/spoilsport)

It was over. A sigh of relief. That feeling of cool wind after a lifetime of stifling heat. Abstergo was gone, and life was normal once more. It was a rather strange feeling for Demond, having his life turned over for years upon end, and then suddenly everything fell back into place. But he was grateful nonetheless. Everyone was alive, safe, and he got to live his life knowing he was part of something greater, looking at strangers with a new light, how very human they were - lives and emotions of their own.

Desmond decided to reapply for his job at the bar he worked in seemingly a lifetime ago, a little bit of familiarity to ease the soul. Eventually, he began to rent a small apartment on the quiet side of town, not much, but just enough with the money he was earning. So far, it was going well, and he was in the process of moving in, getting help from Shaun, Becca and Lucy - hell, even his dad was helping out. It felt like everything would be okay again, and plus, he had some badass new moves to show off with.

Of course, everything was so hectic at the time. They thought he had died, and Desmond had never seen them so distraught, Shaun's snarky demeanour shattered as he struggled to comprehend the situation, his dad, who he had never seen cry, was standing, just barely, tears silently flowing down his cheeks. But he stumbled out, and collapsed, the mission over. He'd been close to dying, sure, but that just served to prove his determination for the whole thing.  
"I didn't go through all this shit to die." He muttered, before losing consciousness. It was rather funny to Desmond, thinking back on it, but none of the others laughed with him. Obviously, the idea of losing a good friend, or even a son is nothing hilarious, but everything had turned out surprisingly good despite Desmond's... Reminder. His arm, the one without a tattoo, had been severely burned, and he still felt pain in it every so often, but in honesty, he didn't mind. Sure, it was a bit unnerving to look at, but nonetheless it was a sacrifice, something that could've been his life instead.

He shakes his head, pulling himself from his thoughts. Right now, he was unloading boxes from the moving van outside, to be unpacked at a later date, or more specifically, when he could be bothered.  
"You good?" Becca's face came into focus, a hand waving to catch his attention. She was grinning, albeit slightly nervous. Her jokes that Desmond had attained some possible brain damage from faceplanting the floor were not too funny for Lucy, who required him to get immediate medical attention. Desmond nods, smiling back at her as he takes the box out of her hands and stacks it with the rest.  
"Was fine until I saw your face, why d'you ask?" He laughs, and catches a glimpse of her sticking out her tongue before she leaves to grab another box, music blasting through the headphones she always wore.  
A hand set on his shoulder nearly makes him turn to attack, but he restrains this urge, what was it Shaun called it? A Pavlovian response? Yeah, something like that, technical and uninteresting in honesty.  
"I'm proud of you, Son. I feel like I haven't said it enough, so-" Desmond turns, smirking slightly.  
"Dad, it's fine. In fact that's all I've been saying since I got out of the hospital. I think my exit was too dramatic, you're a broken record." He laughs, and sees the corners of his fathers mouth twitch up into a smile.

"Are you sure you should be lifting all these boxes alone? I can stay and help if you like, I'm not entirely sure your arm is healed yet." Desmond lifts a hand, smiling softly.  
"I'm fine, Lucy. Go out and have fun, you need it after all this." Lucy shares his smile, gently pushing a loose piece of hair off his face,  
"I'm just worried about you." He's taken aback by the action, but he doesn't let it show.  
"Same for you. Go have a good time, is Shaun going with you's two?" Lucy let's out a small laugh, shaking her head.  
"Hell no, you'd think he's about twenty years older than he actually is! 'Don't be ridiculous, Becks! I've got work to do, I'm too old to be getting drunk like that.'"  
Rebecca's impression of Shaun wasn't exactly accurate, but it was rather hilarious. Screwed up nose and over exaggerated frown which made them all burst into fits of laughter.  
"Wow, you'd think helping save the world would warrant a drink or two. He really hasn't changed has he?" Des exclaims over the laugher that still bubbled up in his throat. He waves the girls off after that, and flops down onto a couch in the middle of a barren room.

Sleeping on a couch made a nice change to a hospital bed, and so he was undoubtedly asleep. He'd managed to bring in a few more boxes, and leave the rest in the front hall. There was some furniture scattered about, but his bed was in pieces, and he really didn't have the energy to fuck about with ikea's instructions, or lack of.

A few weeks had passed, and the place was painted up and looking a lot nicer. There was still quite a bit to put away, and boxes still teetered in stacks dangerously about the house. But it was starting to look like home, no matter how messy it looked. However, it was strange, when Desmond checked out the place before he finalised anything, everything seemed to be in working order, but since he had moved in? Well, that was a different story. Lights kept blowing, or just not working at all despite the fact he had just replaced the bulb, sometimes the faucets would leak even though he was positive he'd made sure there were no breaks. However, he said nothing, because it was a great house, in a good area close to work.

One day he was working out, his usual routine just to keep in shape should anything else occur and he needs to spring into action (and totally not for the fact it got better tips from drunk girls at the bar), when he had left the room to go to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water from the freezer, and took a large gulp, steadily walking back to his room to continue. He pauses, though, when he gets to the door. He didn't shut it, did he?  
"Damn drafts again. I'm gonna have to get this checked out." He grumbles, rolling his eyes and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He opens the door, and once again freezes.  
"Okay seriously what the fuck? The circuits too? God damn it." He didn't turn the lights off, he knew he didn't. This was just getting ridiculous.

The phone dialled, and Desmond drummed his fingers against the table impatiently. It was getting on his nerves now, first the lights, and the faucets, now his god damn console? He cursed to himself, but hearing him pick up made him jolt.  
"Shaun? Hey uh, this may sound stupid-"  
"Nothing new there, Desmond. But what can I help you with."  
Desmond almost laughed with the relief of a reliable source of knowledge on his side.  
"I think something's wrong with my apartment."  
"Care to elaborate?"  
Desmond sighed furiously, gesticulating to an invisible audience.  
"I don't know, somebody's messing with my stuff, lights, taps, my gaming console! Just when I think it's fixed it goes haywire again. I mean, that many electricians can't be wrong can they?"  
There was a silence on the end of the line, and Desmond was about to throw his phone if it was affected too.  
"Are you telling me" Shaun's voice was filled with amusement, "that you have ghosts?"  
"No, yes, I don't know!"  
Shaun sniggers on the other side of the line, making Desmond run a hand through his hair out of frustration.  
"I'm not joking, Shaun. You need to see this. When are you next free?"

"Oh this is going to be good." Ezio smirks, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. He had to admit, the change of scenery was greatly appreciated. Modern day America was way more interesting than the Italian towns he had been stuck in for uncountable years. The sound of a tut made him turn around, and Altaïr was stood with his arms folded.  
"Lighten up, Guastafeste" the Italian chuckled, seeing the doorknob rattle as Desmond walked in with Shaun following behind. At this, Altaïr huffs, and rolls his eyes.  
"Why must you be so difficult?" Ezio's grin just widens at this, and Connor appears.  
The three share a nod of welcoming, Ezio continuing with his earlier point.  
"I'm not being difficult, Guastafeste, just having a little fun." And with that, Ezio disappears, simply walking into the wall like it was nothing but thin air.  
"And stop calling me that!" Altaïr yells after him, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.  
"Why must I forced to deal with this for the rest of my eternity?"

Desmond threw his keys into the bowl by his door, and ran a tongue across his lips.  
"Want a coffee? We might be here a while." Shaun nods, hanging his coat onto the pegs.  
"Is your neighbour always that obnoxious?" His British voice cuts in, making Desmond sigh.  
"Yup. For the last few days now, the same dozen tunes, not like I hear them enough at the bar or anything." The entirely too loud music was becoming a severe annoyance, and Desmond was utterly glad he worked nights most days, as a way to escape it. He hands the Brit his coffee, and they begin to talk about everything that's occurred over the last few weeks.

Altaïr and Connor share a similarly infuriated expression at the pounding songs that had been playing on repeat way longer than necessary. Without a word, the Syrian follows the same path as Ezio had done, but heads into the neighbours apartment.  
"MY FUCKING SPEAKER. WHAT THE FUCK MAN? I JUST GOT THIS SHIT."  
The voice rings out, audible through to Desmond's place, and the two men just share an incredulous look as the music stops. Altaïr returns like nothing had happened, though slightly more at ease. Ezio trails behind him, chuckling and shaking his head.  
"You reprimand me for the actions you take yourself?" Altaïr faces the Italian with a small smile, rare.  
"I'm only doing what's necessary." Ezio's face is one of a amusement, and Connor pipes up.  
"You could've just turned it off, you know?" At this, the Syrian shakes his head.  
"For him to switch it on once more? It was annoying you too, and therefore, a worthy cause." He points towards Ezio. "Unlike this one, who uses it for amusement."  
The Italian raises both hands in surrender.  
"Lighten up, you're dead!" Connor catches Altaïr mutter something about being much happier in an afterlife with a steady supply of women and alcohol, and decides to duck out of the conversation. Since Altaïr had left, Desmond had turned on a light in his bedroom and left. At least he hadn't forgotten to close the door this time, there were cold winds about in the winter and he didn't want his descendant to get ill. He walks through the wall and switches off the light. He heard from Desmond himself how expensive bills could be, so he spent his time helping out, unlike Ezio. He rejoins with Altaïr, Ezio nowhere to be found, and watches Desmond walk towards his bedroom, and call Shaun over when he sees the lack of lighting.

"See! I'm telling you. I'm haunted." Shaun tuts at this.  
"Desmond, you probably just have a broken fuse or something of the like, no need to jump to such absurd conclusions." He finishes the last of his coffee, and adjusts his glasses. "I'll put this in the sink and be off. I'll call you a reliable electrician, yeah?" Desmond sighs dejectedly at this, and nods. Shaun heads over to the kitchen, and had just set the mug into the sink, when Connor noticed Ezio once more.  
Ezio had a hand on both taps, and spun them violently, making water gush everywhere.  
"Booooooooo motherfucker!" He cackles, making Altaïr's jaw drop with disbelief. Shaun was in direct contact with the water and his clothes were soaked.  
"Dude! What the fuck!" Desmond exclaimed, not sure whether to laugh or be angry. "Fuckin' quit it!" He yells out, and the faucets turn off.  
Shaun's expression is one of disbelief, and he wipes the water off his glasses without a word. Eventually he speaks up.  
"I swear, Desmond if that's all you had to do to get it to stop, I'll politely tell you to try it first in future." Desmond shoots him a sheepish smile, and offers to buy him a drink sometime to make up for it. Shaun leaves promptly after that.

"That was a dirty trick" Connor says, looking slightly angry at the unwarranted attack. Ezio simply smiles,  
"You've much to learn if you're going to be stuck with me for your eternity."  
Altaïr simply rubs his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply at it all.


End file.
